


pump your veins with gushing gold

by starlightsonatas



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sort Of, i mean they talk a bit but i'll be real this is mostly just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightsonatas/pseuds/starlightsonatas
Summary: Really, by now he should know better than to insult the Scarecrow’s pride, but Edward’s fatal flaw is his spectacular inability to keep his mouth shut.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	pump your veins with gushing gold

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar to you longtime scriddler fans, it's because I first posted this about three years ago on my previous, now-abandoned account, then deleted it for reasons I do not remember. I've revamped it a bit, and though I don't consider it fantastic I had fun with it and hope you enjoy as well. The title... really has nothing to do with the story, but it's a lyric from one of my favorite songs (Black Mambo by Glass Animals) and therefore gets to be the title. Now, on to the idiots with PhDs.

"Communication, Edward. It's all I ask." Jonathan rubs his temples.

Edward paces around their cell, just as annoyed with his temporary partner in crime as the other is with him. His hands twitch for something, anything, to tinker with. "Personally, I think my part of the plan was carried out wonderfully."

"It was," Jonathan grates out irritably, "but it was so good, _Riddler_ , that it was _early,_ so the Batman was able to show up before I even entered the building."

"Yes, well," Edward waves his hands helplessly, "how was I supposed to contact you?"

"How were you—” Jonathan looks ready to implode. "You—any number of ways! We both had phones on our person. At least five of those goons you deign to call _associates_ were expendable. All you had to do was let go of your ridiculous theatrics for a mere moment."

“Oh, yes, because you have so much room to preach about theatrics, Mr. ‘Cower Before Me In Witless Terror’.”

Jonathan glares.

Edward snorts. "Fine. When you need to pull off a heist again, do it yourself. I doubt it will end any better. Perhaps you’ll end up calling on me to help arrange your jailbreak."

Really, by now he should know better than to insult the Scarecrow’s pride, but Edward’s fatal flaw is his spectacular inability to keep his mouth shut.

He's pinned up against the bars of the cell before he can blink, a cold hand wrapping around his throat. Jonathan's breath is against his neck, sending chills down Edward's spine.

"Don’t provoke me," he growls. "Have you noticed that no one is running to stop me? Those idiots won’t bother to intervene unless I harm you physically.”

Edward bites his lip, drawing blood. His fingers curl around the metal of the bars. They’re more frigid than Jonathan’s touch, but only marginally.

“Keyword,” Jonathan continues, placing the other hand on the small of Edward's back, "being physically."

Edward is so, so glad that he's facing away from Jonathan. His pants have become uncomfortably tight. He knows, somewhere very deep down, that he shouldn't be at all aroused. In any other setting, the fearsome Doctor Crane would not hesitate to dose him with a risky amount of toxin and take joy in watching him writhe on the floor in terror.

But damn if it isn't exciting. By no means is he a glutton for pain, but when it comes to Jonathan...

“You don’t scare me,” Edward mutters. He’s rewarded by a sharp pain in his back, Jonathan’s jagged nails digging into the tender flesh even through the ugly orange jumpsuit. 

“Oh, darlin’,” Jonathan drawls, accent thickening as he mocks Edward, “why do you lie to me? I know you’re afraid. You absolutely reek of it.”

And now Edward’s temper is beginning to rise as well. “Do your worst," he challenges.

Jonathan laughs quietly, a short sharp sound, and his hand squeezes tighter around Edward's throat, just enough to hurt. Edward wonders if it will bruise, and almost hopes it does.

"When we escape, you will be at my mercy." His lips brush against Edward’s ear.

"I believe you, don't worry," Edward spits.

Jonathan releases Edward, and pads silently to the other side of the cell.

Edward stays pressed against the cell bars for a long, long time.

|||

They're out before the week is over.

And he does, in fact, end up at the Scarecrow's mercy, just not in the way he originally imagined.

Being fucked so hard he can't breath is, however, a much better turnout than expected.

"You take my cock so well, Edward," Jonathan pants, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. His hands are planted on either side of Edward’s head, breath coming in short gasps that betray his attempts to appear composed.

Edward chokes on a moan, flushing from both the pleasure and the praise. "Perhaps I—ah, _fuck_ — would be even better suited to _serve_ you in another position?" He places emphasis on the suggestion of his own submission, thrilling in the pleased growl it draws from his partner. 

He’s about to lay it on even thicker to bait Jonathan into handling him more roughly, but is cut off when the other hits the spot inside him that makes his mind go blank. The words are stolen from him, and all he can give is a whimper and a desperate roll of his hips.

Jonathan's mouth curls into a grin. "As you wish."

Edward gasps as Jonathan slides out of him, muscles seizing at the sudden emptiness. Jonathan's nails dig into Edward's sides, and he flips them over so that Edward is straddling him. As lanky and gaunt as the good doctor may be, he’s deceptively strong.

It takes a moment for Edward to position himself, legs somewhat shaky from the actions of only moments ago. Jonathan runs a hand up and down his back soothingly. Edward tips his head back and bites back a sob as he sinks down on Jonathan's cock. He fights through the flash of pain, knowing he’s not giving himself enough time to adjust but too turned on to care.

"Move," he gasps, gripping the other man's shoulders. 

Jonathan's tone is steady, if a bit strained. "Take a breath first. Are you alright?" 

Edward never would have believed that Jonathan Crane of all people would be considerate during sex. Even, apparently, to those who manage to piss him off.

And he is touched by the concern, really, but this is _not_ the time to be getting sentimental. "Yes," he hisses, bucking into Jonathan, "now move!"

Jonathan's hands settle at his hips again and Edward bites his lip, legs trembling more intensely as he begins to move up and down in time with Jonathan's steady pace. 

"You—" Edward whines and grinds down in frustration. "Go faster, Jon."

"What was that? I'm afraid I didn't hear you." Jonathan slows down, the absolute bastard. Now that he’s confident Edward isn’t going to injure himself, the sadistic tendencies of the Scarecrow are resurfacing.

"Please!" It doesn’t take much for Edward to relent, moving his hands from Jonathan's shoulders to his hair, grasping and pulling at the russet strands. "Please, Jonathan, fuck me harder!"

The only acknowledgment he gets is a smug smile before Jonathan physically lifts him off of his cock before swiftly yanking him down again, and Edward sees stars. 

Jonathan thrusts faster, harder, quiet moans and pants escaping his lips. Edward is nowhere near quiet, crying out each time Jonathan fills him up completely.

"G-god, oh, fuck!" Edward leans down to kiss Jonathan, and the new angle sends shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

"Edward," Jonathan moans next to his ear, and wraps a hand around his cock, pumping agonizingly slowly.

"I'm," Edward pants, "Jon, I'm going to—"

He comes before he can finish his warning, hot and sticky and, if he's being honest, harder than he ever has before. Jonathan finishes moments after, raking his nails across Edward's shoulders, hard enough to draw blood. 

Neither moves for what seems like hours, but eventually Edward pulls himself off of Jonathan, wincing slightly as he flops down beside his sated partner. 

Jonathan frowns. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Edward lies. 

Jonathan gives him a _look_. 

"Well, just a little bit. It's been a while, okay?" Edward defends himself sourly.

Jonathan rubs his arm reassuringly. "Next time, you must tell me if I'm being too rough."

Edward nods, knowing he’ll do no such thing and will likely provoke him to be as unrestrained as he likes, and his head swims with the giddiness of there being a _next time._

|||

Next time comes sooner than expected, not even two weeks later. Jonathan, Edward finds, is addictive, and three months down the line he finds himself in the Scarecrow's bed nearly every night.

They've made a habit of going out to dinner once a week. Jonathan has explained that they need to keep their working relationship up to date, since they clearly won't be getting anything of importance done at their usual trysts.

Tonight's dinner is at the Iceberg, and it's been quite a nice night indeed. They're sitting in comfortable silence, sipping on their drinks and watching the other patrons.

"Do you want to actually date me, or is this just sex?" Edward asks suddenly. He winces internally. He’d not meant to be so blunt about it.

Jonathan freezes, his drink halfway to his lips. 

"Sorry," Edward backtracks, "I—nevermind."

Jonathan sets his drink down. "No. It seems as though we’ve had a misunderstanding. I was under the impression that you and I were already in agreement about the… nature of our relationship."

Edward's mouth goes dry. "Come again?"

Jonathan chews on his lip, a nervous habit that Edward has noticed as they’ve spent more time in close proximity. "Edward, I had assumed we were dating since the first time we slept together."

"Oh," Edward says weakly. "That... three months? Really?"

"For someone so smart, you really are quite stupid," Jonathan says flatly. “I don’t view such things with the same casualty you do.” He goes to stand up, and Edward grabs his hand.

"Now, wait," he sputters, "can we discuss this?"

Jonathan looks at him with something nearing surprise. "You aren't opposed? To monogamy?" _With me?_ The unspoken continuation is obvious.

"Of course not." Edward is almost insulted. "I don't sleep with just anyone."

"But you've been initiating it with me, and you didn't think we were dating."

Edward sighs. "If I like you enough to have sex with you, I like you enough to date you. Hell, I _want_ to date you. It just seemed like you preferred to separate fucking me and threatening me." He thinks first of gentle touches and breathy moans in the night, and then of how callous Jonathan will be outside of the bedroom, nothing but cold calculation and occasional anger courtesy of his darker half. This is, for all intents and purposes, a bad idea.

But Edward loves turning bad ideas into genius successes.

"Now come sit back down, Jon, and we can talk it over." 

Silence.

"Please?" He adds after a moment of hesitation.

Jonathan sits, and Edward thinks that they might be getting somewhere with this whole communication thing.


End file.
